


Forever lost at last

by jijal



Category: BTOB
Genre: Gen, Platonic Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21851431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jijal/pseuds/jijal
Summary: Nothing makes Sungjae feel more alone than sleeping in a room with six strangers.
Relationships: Jung Ilhoon & Yook Sungjae
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: BBBFest Debut Round: The Bittersweet Option





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my first contribution to the [bleak boyband bingo fic fest](https://twitter.com/bbb_fest), what a time to be alive. for info on my fills check the end notes (title taken from lost boy by ruth b)

The first night Sungjae spent sleeping at the dorm, he cried himself to sleep. Sharing a room with six other guys he didn’t know, and a manager sleeping in the second bedroom down the hall, home had never felt farther, and Sungjae had never felt lonelier. Burying his face in the worn-down, old pillow he’d been handed after they sorted out sleeping arrangements, he stifled his sobs and hoped no one else would hear him. That they’d be asleep, or too caught up in their own heads to notice.

The next morning, he startled awake at half past six to someone’s alarm going off and a pounding headache. His heart dropped into his gut when he remembered he hadn’t done any of his homework, but a strange, loud yawn pulled him back down to earth. His head shot up, and he spotted Changsub getting up from his bed. Right. He wasn’t lying in his bed. And he wasn’t going to school. He didn’t know what strings the company had pulled for him, but revision was now dance practice. Mathematics and history were now singing lessons, and his lunch break was reduced to _break_. No lunch. None of his friends around to talk to.

And while moving out was about the last thing he expected to be doing at the age of sixteen, leaving behind everything else was the hardest. Putting school on the back burner for a big, mysterious _nothing_ was scary — still is, and every day Sungjae asks himself if his parents made the biggest mistake of their lives by letting him pursue singing, or if it’ll all be worth it someday.

It has to be. It _will_ be. He has everything he could ask for to make it big, to make the endless amounts of money, time and energy put into this dream over the last years worth it, and he’d promised himself he’d let nothing, and no one, get in the way.

Sungjae winces, the sound of the door being slammed shut ringing in his ears. No one dares to move, the tension in the room still palpable as the dust settles around them.

It’s nothing new, painfully familiar even, but it still makes Sungjae feel like shit. Next to him, Minhyuk sighs, tilting his head back towards the ceiling and closing his eyes for a moment. He hates it just as much as Sungjae. All the drama, the fighting, the way it makes them drift apart before they ever had a chance to become close.

“Jesus Christ, that fucking kid,” Changsub is the first one to break the silence, seemingly unimpressed by Ilhoon’s sudden exit.

“I’ll talk to him,” Eunkwang says, and Sungjae admires him for not having let that sentence turn into a tired sigh.

“No, hyung, don’t run after him all the time,” Changsub stops him. “He needs to learn how to act like an adult.”

“It’s alright. Let’s take a break. Fifteen minutes.”

Eunkwang pats him on the shoulder and shoots him a small, apologetic smile, as if it was his fault Ilhoon is angry, or that he cares as much as he does.

“Don’t forget to change his diapers, hyung,” Changsub calls after Eunkwang as he leaves the practice room to go after Ilhoon, and the rest of the group breaks formation, as well. Sungjae plumps down onto the floor with his back against the wall, and Donggeun quietly sits down next to him. Like a hen with its little chick, Sungjae thinks, and softly knocks his knee against Donggeun’s.

“He storms off every other practice at this point. I’m sick of him,” Changsub says, unable to hide his frustration, as he retreats to a corner of the practice room with Hyunsik. “None of us should have to play fucking babysitter. Either he behaves, or he leaves. I don’t care.”

“He’s a kid, hyung. It’s normal he’s acting out under all this pressure,” Hyunsik replies, his voice low and his words difficult for Sungjae to understand from where he’s sitting merely two metres away.

“We’ll never get shit done if he keeps throwing a fit every time one of us corrects him.”

“I know. But we can’t let him fall behind. He’s part of the group, too,” Hyunsik says, as if Changsub had to be reminded. The look on his face makes it clear he’d rather not be.

“He doesn’t even want to be here, I swear to God.”

Sungjae averts his eyes down to his hands resting in his lap before Changsub can notice him listening to their conversation. From the corner of his eyes, Sungjae sees Minhyuk going over the last few steps by himself, although he pretty much had them down the first time the choreographer went over them. To say Minhyuk is good at about everything he does would be an understatement, and still, he’s always doing more. Staying longer. Working harder. Sungjae can’t help but wonder who he’s doing it all for.

“Why did Ilhoon leave?” Donggeun asks ever so carefully from next to Sungjae, having him lift his head and meet Donggeun’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” Sungjae mumbles. “I guess he has kind of a short temper, you know?”

Donggeun nods, but Sungjae isn’t sure he actually understood what he said. Being added last, and being able to speak in broken Korean at best, Donggeun is out of the loop more often than not, and Sungjae can’t help but feel for him. The others were more welcoming of the foreign last minute addition than expected, but he imagines Donggeun’s life lonely, and overwhelming, so he makes sure to fill him in whenever he can. With a tight, full schedule, work and practice and classes day in and day out, he can’t blame any of them for not paying attention to Donggeun much, but Sungjae made a promise to himself to at least make an effort.

“Ilhoon hyung made a mistake, and Changsub hyung corrected him. But then Ilhoon hyung took it the wrong way, or something, and got all angry,” he explains, trying his best to word it so that Donggeun will understand. “It’s always the same.”

“I see,” Donggeun replies. “That’s… sad.”

Granted, most of the others talk to Donggeun every now and then, but it’s understandable when they don’t, and it’s no one’s fault that conversations with him tend to feel one-sided. Donggeun tries his best, and it works for Sungjae, despite the language barrier — or maybe even because of it. Sometimes, all he wants is to be able to share that blissful state of ignorance with Donggeun.

His eyes almost falling shut against his will, Sungjae leans over and rests his head on Donggeun’s shoulder. He’s tired, so, _so_ tired, and all the pent up energy that comes and leaves with Ilhoon isn’t helping. It’s exhausting, and Sungjae wishes for nothing more than for the seven of them to get along.

Eventually, Ilhoon comes back. Stone-faced, and closely followed by Eunkwang entering the practice room a second later, he resumes his position in front of the mirror along with Minhyuk, and the rest of them get to their feet. They don’t lose another word about his meltdown, continue where they left off as if it never happened like they always do, and Sungjae feels a weight lifted off his shoulders when their manager finally appears in the door frame to tell them to pack up. His clothes are drenched in sweat and his lungs burning, but he's happy as he steps out into the dark, chilly night. The cold wind nips at his skin, and the moon peaks through the clouds, and Sungjae gets ushered onto the backseat of their manager’s car.

To no one’s surprise, Ilhoon skips out on dinner; he heads into their bedroom without losing a word, and Eunkwang saves him a few bites, puts them away into the fridge before he joins the others sat on the floor in front of the television. Sungjae eats in silence, his mind drifting off every so often despite his attempts to stay focused on the others’ conversation. He can’t help but think about Ilhoon, sitting in their bedroom all by himself, and what a good job the others do at pretending he isn’t — or forgetting about him altogether. Arguably, food is more important, dinner being their first real meal of the day, and Sungjae wouldn’t want to trade places with Ilhoon for the life of him, no matter how much it pains him to watch him shoot himself in the foot over and over.

It’s past midnight by the time Sungjae gets to brush his teeth and go to sleep, climbing up the small, almost miniature ladder in the dark and collapsing onto his bed. The wooden frame creaks as he shifts his weight, and his whole body _hurts_ , the dull ache spreading through his legs down to the soles of his feet all too familiar. It’s another constant in his life at this point, but it’s the easiest to bear and distract himself from when he needs it. If he got to pick, he would choose pain over that crippling loneliness he still can’t shake any day. As soon as the lights are out and there is nothing to break the silence anymore, it all comes crushing down on him, comes creeping in and nibbles at his heart until the exhaustion hits him and drags his eyelids shut for him.

The nights it doesn’t, Sungjae tosses and turns, to no avail, and when he’s close to crying out of frustration, he slowly, carefully climbs the ladder back down and,

"Hyung?"

A quiet, low hum.

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Of course." Eunkwang rolls over in his small bunk bed and Sungjae lies down next to him, facing the bottom of Ilhoon's mattress. There’s barely enough space for the two of them to lie comfortably, but Sungjae doesn’t mind. Eunkwang’s company, and his warm body pressed against Sungjae’s makes up for the lack of space to move.

Sungjae lets out a small sigh, his head about to explode.

“What’s up?” Eunkwang whispers, mindful of the others in the room with them.

“Do you ever feel like… we’re just living in an office?” Sungjae tilts his head to look at him, even though he can barely make out his face.

"What do you mean?"

"It's been over a month since we moved in together, but no one gets along, and some of the hyungs still just feel like… colleagues,” Sungjae mumbles. "I wonder if we'll ever be... friends.”

 _Family_ , is what he wants to say. But he doesn’t.

"It'll get better,” Eunkwang whispers. “Some people need more time to warm up to others. That's not on you.”

Which — that’s easy for him to say, Sungjae thinks bitterly. Because Eunkwang gets along with everyone; he’d been friends with Changsub for years before they ended up training at the same company, and being put into the same group, and he has a way of talking to everybody else that leaves them no choice but to like him. If Sungjae didn’t know better, he’d be convinced Eunkwang is some sort of wizard. He doesn’t want to cling, but Eunkwang makes it terribly easy. Makes it easy to ignore the other five guys in the room with them for a while.

“I just want everyone to get along.”

“I know. Me too.” Eunkwang takes Sungjae’s hand into his and gives it a light, reassuring squeeze. “But it’ll be alright. Give things some time.”

And Sungjae wants to believe him, to stop worrying about the group falling apart any day now, but he can’t tell if Eunkwang is speaking from experience, or trusting in his intuition, or if he’s just blindly hoping for better days not guaranteed. Still, he’d never bring it over himself to talk back, or question Eunkwang’s words, so he croaks out a quiet _okay_ , and lets Eunkwang sleep.

The rest of the night is short, and uneventful. Sungjae eventually drifts off to the sound of Eunkwang’s steady breathing and doesn’t get startled awake by Minhyuk talking and crying in his sleep like he does most nights. He feels anything but rested by the time they get up at half past six, has to force his limbs to move and not just roll off Eunkwang’s bed onto the floor and fall back asleep with the floor heating keeping him warm.

Shower. Classes. Practice. Dinner. Sleep.

It’s an excruciatingly boring, rigid routine, and some days Sungjae manages not to think about it too much, to just do as he’s supposed to. Other days he notices how it sucks all life and joy out of him, how the days have begun to blend into each other as the weeks went by and how there’s nothing he can do to stop it. If they’re lucky, Sungjae and Ilhoon get to go to school for a change, instead of spending the entire day on company grounds. They get to go to classes like they used to, and Sungjae would’ve never thought there’d be a day he’d be happy about it. It's not the same, who knew so much could change in less than two months, but it's close enough. His friends always ask him all about trainee life, what he’s been up to and what it’s like being an _idol,_ even though he isn’t. Not yet, at least.

"Be careful what you talk about with Eunkwang hyung."

"What?" Sungjae’s eyes fly open and he regrets it immediately. The shampoo stings, and he suppresses a cuss.

"Last night,” Ilhoon says, stepping aside for Sungjae to step under the stream of the shower. “I heard everything you said. Any of the others could have, too."

"But I—i didn't mean to—,” Sungjae stammers, taken aback. “I wasn’t, like, talking badly about anyone.”

He dares open his eyes again, and stares at Ilhoon, wonders how much of the conversation he heard, and if he figured out who Sungjae was talking about. But Ilhoon pays him no mind, pretends he doesn’t even notice Sungjae’s unsure gaze fixed on him as he rinses the shampoo out of his hair, and turns off the water.

Maybe he knows, Sungjae thinks. And maybe he doesn’t. Ilhoon doesn’t seem to care either way.

"Do you think I— any of them—?"

A loud knock on the door has Sungjae jump, and both their heads turn towards the bathroom door.

"Ilhoon-ah, Sungae-yah. Hurry up in there, yeah?” Minhyuk’s voice seeps through the thin wood. “It’s ten past seven.”

"God, fuck off," Ilhoon mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance and quiet enough for no one to hear him besides Sungjae. He steps out of the shower to dry himself off, and Sungjae follows suit, grabbing one of the already damp towels from on top of the washing machine.

"Hyung, do you think any of them heard me?” he tries again. “Or took it the wrong way?”

He didn’t mean to talk behind anyone’s back, he really didn’t, but Ilhoon has a point. Anyone else could have been listening, and could have interpreted Sungjae’s sleepy ramblings the wrong way. As a personal attack, even, and if there’s one thing that could make living in the dorm even worse for Sungjae, it’s an enemy.

"How would I know," Ilhoon retorts sharply, and that’s that.

And, of course — how _would_ he know. He isn’t wrong.

But it stings.

The blood already rushing to his cheeks, Sungjae grits his teeth and swallows down all his frustration, tells himself not to burst into tears in front of Ilhoon and gets dressed as fast as he can muster. Anything to escape the small bathroom and the stuffy silence between the two of them. It’s too much. _Ilhoon_ is too much. He says too little, gives too little, and Sungjae doesn’t know how to deal with any of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today i offer you this shitty, messy and uber-long second chapter.
> 
> i am so sorry

“No,” Changsub says, sternly. Ilhoon snatches one of the bottles from where they’re stood between them, anyway.

“Ilhoon-ah, you’re not supposed to— we could all get in massive trouble for this,” Eunkwang says, a disapproving frown plastered across this face.

“It’s just a sip, hyung,” Ilhoon says, and takes definitely more than _just a sip_ ,Sungjae silently watching in awe. He’s happy Ilhoon is even sitting with them, enjoying dinner and soju he’s not allowed to drink, because things could be worse, they _have_ been worse, and Sungjae will take anything that isn’t meaningless fighting. He tries to ignore the way it all feels like dancing on a tightrope, the constant awareness that the mood could change any second, Ilhoon could lose his temper and storm off before any of them got a chance to stop him.

“Well, I’m not gonna brush your teeth for you when you throw up,” Changsub mutters, whipping the bottle out of Ilhoon’s hand before he gets a chance to empty it, but he doesn’t seem genuinely angry. None of them do. Sungjae dares to breathe.

“I won’t need you to,” Ilhoon shoots back, but it doesn’t have any bite to it. He’s relaxed, and maybe tonight will be different.

The bottles make their rounds, get handed back and forth between the oldest hyungs as they make sure Ilhoon doesn’t steal either of them another time. He seems content, and by the time the first bottle is empty, Ilhoon is all rosy cheeks and helpless giggles that he doesn’t try to bite back. For the first time since they’ve met, Sungjae feels like he’s seeing the real Ilhoon, his guard down and his edges softened by the alcohol that finally kicked in and is now intoxicating his blood stream — and it’s nice, comfortable. So much so that Sungjae wishes everyday was an unofficial Saturday night off, although having Ilhoon drunk for the rest of his life is probably not an option.

“One more day of practice, and then we’re filming on Monday,” Eunkwang says at some point, a small smile on his lips. “Our first video that’ll be out.”

“It’ll look so cool,” Sungjae says, his imagination running wild as he talks. “With the masks and the outfits and everything.”

“Like an actual idol group,” Minhyuk chimes in, and Sungjae nods in excitement. Monday is what they’ve been practicing for, training towards for the past weeks, what they became trainees for — years ago, for most of them. Sungjae’s never been this close to fulfilling his dream, and he’s glad for the others to pinch him every now and again to remind him that _this is real_.

“Hope you’re ready for the public to run their dirty mouths,” Changsub remarks, and takes another sip. “No one’s gonna hold back.”

Even though some of them like to bring Sungjae back down to the ground a little too fast, a little too harsh.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Eunkwang says, shooting Sungjae a reassuring glance, as if he knew comments like Changsub’s are one of the many things keeping Sungjae up at night. “We’re just starting out.”

“I’ll just write something nasty back,” Ilhoon jumps in, biting back a chuckle and a challenging glint in his eyes. “I don’t fucking care.”

“No, Ilhoon-ah, our image is way more important,” Eunkwang says, that frown back on his face. It only ever really shows with Ilhoon. “You need to think of the group first, okay? No matter what you do in the eye of the public, it’ll affect all of us. Don’t ever forget that.”

He isn’t angry, or irritated like Changsub gets, as if he couldn’t bring it over himself to be mad at Ilhoon, or blame him for the stuff he says and does. Sungjae nothing but admires Eunkwang for his endless empathy and understanding, although he isn’t sure Ilhoon deserves it sometimes.

Ilhoon gives a scornful scoff in response. “You’re no fun, hyung.”

“Cut it out,” Changsub warns him.

“O-kay,” Minhyuk jumps in, his eyes going from Eunkwang, to Ilhoon, to Changsub within a second. “Let’s get to bed, alright? We’re all a little drunk. No fights tonight.”

He pats Changsub on the knee, and moves to get up, but he loses his balance trying to fetch the soju bottles from the floor, Changsub quickly grabbing Minhyuk by the shoulder to keep him from falling over and landing face first on the floor.

“Jeez, sorry,” he brings out, a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips, and Sungjae smells the alcohol in it. Getting up from the floor as well, Hyunsik chuckles quietly, and the others give up the efforts to keep in their laughter as well, the room erupting into a mixture of amused laughs. They all get to their feet, and Sungjae leaves to get changed in their bedroom along with Ilhoon, Peniel and Hyunsik, while the rest of them stay behind to clean up and brush their teeth. He checks his phone as he waits for everybody who gets to go before him to finish washing up, trying his best to stay awake and not fall asleep in the meantime as he reads through the new messages in his old classmates’ group chat.

“Sungjae-yah,” a voice has Sungjae wake with a start, his eyes flying open. He manages to make out Hyunsik’s blurry face, back-lit by the light coming from outside the bedroom. “Bathroom.”

“Ah,” Sungjae mumbles, rubbing at his face and slowly sitting up. He remembers where he is, and damns himself for falling asleep, after all. “Yeah. Going. Thank you, hyung.”

A small smile from Hyunsik, and Sungjae jumps off his bed, closing the bedroom door shut on his way out. Even more sleepy than before and fighting to keep his eyes open, he pads into the bathroom, but an unidentifiable sound from the hallway has him stop dead in his tracks, and he puts his toothbrush down onto the sink again, peaking his head out the door.

Ilhoon.

“Hyung?” Sungjae asks, keeping his voice down to a whisper. “Where are you going?”

He steps back out into the hallway and watches Ilhoon grab one of the bottles from the kitchen counter and empty it in one go, drinking up whatever is left within the blink of an eye and putting it back down with a loud thud.

“Out.”

“You can’t— it’s the middle of the night—“

“Just going for a walk. Calm down,” Ilhoon drawls, as he puts on his shoes and pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, supporting himself against the wall. _This isn’t good._

“Without telling the others?” Sungjae tries another round of unconvincing, weak protest, and Ilhoon just hums back in his throat, and, without a look back, opens the apartment door and disappears into the hallway, silently pulling the door shut behind him again.

Frozen in place as if paralysed, Sungjae stares at the spot where Ilhoon was only a moment ago, and for a second, he considers going to bed and pretending like he didn’t see him leave. No matter how big the guilt eating him up inside, he wouldn’t bring it over himself to tell on Ilhoon to any of the others. Not even Eunkwang. There’s nothing to gain from it, really; if anything, it’d make their relationship even more rocky — and Sungjae hates to think that that is even possible.

But he saw Ilhoon, and even if he’s just going for a walk — he’s drunk, it’s late, and Sungjae wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything were to happen to him. He might regret going after Ilhoon, or even letting him go in the first place, but this is on him now, so he has no choice but to make sure he’s safe.

Trying to ignore the voice in his head yelling at himself, he hastily slips on his shoes and jacket and heads out, hurrying down the flights of stairs as quietly as possible.

He catches up with Ilhoon a few steps from the front door outside their apartment building, the cold air seeping through Sungjae’s clothes in a matter of seconds and sending a shiver down his spine as he crosses his arms in front of his chest to try and stay warm.

“Hyung,” he says, almost pleads with Ilhoon, once he’s next to him. “We should go back.”

All he can think about is how much trouble they could get in if any of the others found out that the two of them snuck out this late at night. He doesn’t dare think about what would happen if a manager knew, because some of the hyungs they could try and reason with, ask them to turn a blind eye this once, but managers are a whole different issue. Sungjae fears them, and sometimes he wonders if the others do, too.

“Oh, knock it off,” Ilhoon half-whines, half-groans, not even sparing a glance at Sungjae. “The air’s way too stuffy in there.”

“Hyung, it’s cold and the middle of the night and no one knows we’re out here— what if something happens to you? We’re supposed to look out for each other—,”

“Changsub hyung always says I’m too immature, and now that I wanna do stuff by myself…,” Ilhoon trails off, shaking his head. “Just leave me alone.”

To his own surprise, Sungjae grabs Ilhoon’s arm in an desperate attempt to make him listen, just for once, turning him around with ease.

But Ilhoon isn’t having any of it.

“ _Fuck—_ I said leave me the fuck alone,” he almost growls at Sungjae, and Sungjae gulps, trying to brave Ilhoon’s piercing glare and suppressing the urge to let go of him. He can’t back down now. He can’t lose this fight.

“Please, hyung, you could get in so much trouble for this,” he stresses, fingernails clawing at the sleeve of Ilhoon’s jacket. “I just want to help you.”

He pulls at Ilhoon’s arm, tries to get him to take a step towards him, but Ilhoon pushes Sungjae back with force, getting him to let go and the both of them tumbling a few steps backwards.

“I don’t need your help. Stop acting like we’re friends.” Ilhoon’s voice is ice cold, cutting right through Sungjae, and his words are _sharp_ , leaving cuts where it hurts most. Sungjae feels his throat close up.

“Go suck up to the others.”

With that, Ilhoon turns around, burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and stalks off, and Sungjae can do nothing but watch, Ilhoon’s image starting to blur in front of his eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispers, trying to force down the lump in his throat, his whole body shaking from the cold, or the adrenaline of the fight, he can’t really tell. He swallows down a sob, rubs at his face before his tears can freeze on his cheeks, and makes his way back to the dorm. His lungs burn from the cold air, and his head hurts from crying, but he can’t let any of it show. He sneaks back into the apartment, closing the door as quietly as he can manage and tiptoeing off his shoes, and stops to take a deep breath.

“Sungjae?”

Sungjae jumps, whipping his head around.

“Minhyuk hyung,” he breathes out, his heart rate picking up.

“What are you doing?” Minhyuk asks, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes at Sungjae, but he doesn’t switch on the lights, the traffic in front of their apartment complex and the moonshine the only sources of light, streaming in through the window.

“Uhm, just, finishing washing up.”

“I thought I heard the door fall shut,” Minhyuk mumbles, the slight slur to his words a gentle reminder that he’s still drunk, or at least tipsy. He’s also so sleepy Sungjae’s scared he could fall back asleep standing up, so he might get away with this without drawing any more attention to himself, or Ilhoon. He might be able to fool him, this once.

“The… the bathroom door. Yeah,” Sungjae says, doing his best to hide the unsure tremble in his voice. “That was me, hyung.”

“Oh,” Minhyuk makes, letting out a faint breath. “Right… okay. Well, make sure you get to bed. It’s late.”

Good thing Minhyuk doesn’t know how late it _actually_ is, Sungjae thinks, but immediately shoves the thought aside. He’d be done for if he realised it’s been almost half an hour since they all went to sleep and left the youngest two to get ready for bed. Luckily, he doesn’t, and there’s no reason to dwell on it.

“Yes, hyung. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Sungjae-yah.”

Trying to forget about Ilhoon still wandering the lonely, cold streets, Sungjae gets ready for bed for real this time, and slips under the covers of his bunkbed no ten minutes later. He refuses to let the issue keep him up any longer than it already has; he can’t keep running after Ilhoon, and making a fool of himself in the process. Ilhoon doesn’t want help, or friends, or any kind of support, and there’s no point in forcing it onto him, in wasting any more energy on trying to get through to him. Sungjae should’ve listened to Eunkwang from the start; it’s not on him to fix things. Or whatever it was that he said. Sungjae can’t really remember anymore, and his brain is getting foggy already.

Screw Ilhoon, he thinks, and his eyes fall shut.

His headache slept off during the few hours of sleep he got, it only takes Sungjae a glance at Ilhoon the next morning for the memories of last night to come rushing back to him amidst the quiet, slow chaos of everyone getting up around him. A part of him is relieved to know Ilhoon home, and he silently commends him for getting back without anyone waking up, but a bigger part of him wants nothing but to forget he’s even there. It’s almost scary, the wave of resentment and frustration hitting Sungjae with full force now, but he figures he’s better off like this. For the first time, he feels as if they’re on equal footing.

They shower in silence, brush their teeth as if they were alone and had the bathroom to themselves, and from there on, Sungjae gets to focus on the others, spends the car ride to practice talking to Donggeun about a Korean webtoon he’s been trying to read and helping him with explaining to him what he doesn’t understand. At some point, Hyunsik butts in from the row of seats in front of them and offers actual translations to the words, because his English is pretty good, and Sungjae’s isn’t, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to help Donggeun where he can, even if his clumsy explanations sometimes confuse Donggeun more than they _explain_.

Their last day of practice goes by quickly, way too quickly, for Sungjae’s taste. Or maybe, he just doesn’t want today to end and tomorrow to come; the mere thought of filming, having to perform in front of a crew, that’s _just_ there for them, making him feel like he could forget the choreography at any given moment. And, God knows, _he could_. He could forget, fuck up and have them re-take the entire shot two times, three times, or a hundred times, and maybe that’s simply too much responsibility for him to handle.

“Hyung?” Sungjae asks, having Minhyuk perk up his eyebrows in surprise. “Is it okay if I stay, too?”

Sungjae notices some of the others turning around to look at him from the corners of his eyes, bags all packed and shouldered and ready to go home. If it were any day but today, he’d be the first one out the door, more than happy to leave the studio behind to trade it in for dinner for the night, but Sungjae wouldn’t be able to eat even his favourite dish tonight. His thoughts won’t let him rest.

“Of course,” Minhyuk says without hesitation, shooting him a warm smile.

“Don’t stay too late, Sungjae-yah,” Eunkwang says, gently ruffling Sungjae’s hair as he walks past him, and Sungjae _melts_.

“Yes, hyung,” he softly calls after him, watching him leave the along with the other members, the backs of their t-shirts drenched in sweat.

All the energy, and noise gone once the five of them have entered the elevator down the hall and are on their way up to the ground floor, Sungjae and Minhyuk are left to themselves, in the huge, empty practice room. It’s quiet, Minhyuk having picked up his phone for a quick text, from what Sungjae can tell, anyway. He doesn’t dare speak up, just stays still and feels the soles of his feet burning as he waits.

“So,” Minhyuk speaks up, putting his phone back down onto the floor. “Is there something you want to go over?”

“Uhm, no, I just want to, you know, make sure I don’t mess up tomorrow,” Sungjae says, giving a tight, unsure smile. “It looks so cool when you do it, but I don’t think I can…—“

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Minhyuk assures him. “But let’s do the whole song, then. Maybe I can give you some tips.”

The music blaring from the speakers, Sungjae gets back into the choreography. It’s kind of awkward, to say the least, the two of them doing a dance number for seven and having to wait on their respective parts to come up, but Sungjae is happy for any chance to practice, closely watching Minhyuk’s reflexion in the mirror and doing his best to make his movements as sharp and fast as Minhyuk does.

They’re only two or three runs in, when Minhyuk suddenly steps to the side and turns off the music again.

“Sorry,” he mutters, gesturing to the door. “Two minutes.”

He rushes out of the practice room before Sungjae can even respond, leaving him to himself with a hundred questions. He plumps down onto the floor, his gaze still fixed on the door, that Minhyuk left open when he almost ran outside, and listens for any sounds coming from the hallway. He should be able to hear the door to the restrooms open and close, especially this late at night when everyone but them have long gone home, but the entire floor stays silent. Five, maybe ten minutes pass, of Sungjae listening to absolute silence, and the aching pain that he so easily forgets about during practice coming back and making his limbs feel heavy like iron.

But Minhyuk — Minhyuk doesn’t.

He doesn’t come back, and Sungjae decides to finally check up on him when the hundreds of horror scenarios replaying inside his head begin to take over. Bracing himself to find Minhyuk passed out with an open wound from where he hit his head on the sink, Sungjae walks down the hall and lets out a shaky breath, before he opens the door to the men’s restroom.

Stood with his hands gripping the porcelain basin, Minhyuk’s head shoots up the second Sungjae steps inside, a small sigh of relief stuck in his throat when their eyes meet.

“Hyung, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll be right back,” Minhyuk says, forcing the corners of his lips up in a weak, shaky smile. Sungjae sees right through it. Minhyuk is not okay, and even though he doesn't look to be in pain, that doesn't mean he isn't.

“Are you sure?” Sungjae asks again, taking a step closer to him. “Are you feeling sick? Should I call someone?”

“No, I don’t need—no.” Minhyuk shakes his head, closes his eyes shut. “I just, uhm. Need a moment. To calm down.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“I’m having— it’s a. A panic attack.”

Sungjae’s heart drops.

“What’s that? Can I help you?” Sungjae brings out past the lump forming in his throat.

“Can you— just, be calm. For me. Please.”

“Okay, sorry. Sorry if I'm making it worse, I've never…,” Sungjae trails off, he hates that might just be making things a hundred times worse. “Should I leave, hyung? I can wait outside.”

“No, please stay.”

Sungjae loses control over his face for a second — Minhyuk wants him here, maybe even needs him, so he composes himself and walks over to him, leaving enough distance between them to be there with Minhyuk, and to give him space if he needs it.

“Can you tell me what it’s like?” Sungjae asks, carefully. “You don’t have to, of course— if it’s too much.”

“It comes on randomly, and then I just— can’t breathe, and my heart’s beating really fast, and—,” he breaks off, tilting his head back and closing his eyes shut. “I get dizzy, and it just gets really, really bad, before it gets better.”

Sungjae tries his best to process what Minhyuk’s telling him, and to figure out what he could do to get him through it, but he’s _lost_ , lost without any of the others to tell him what to do and the more he thinks about it, the closer he gets to breaking down. But this— this isn’t about him, and losing it is the last thing he should do in front of Minhyuk, so Sungjae blends out his own, panicked thoughts, and shifts his focus onto Minhyuk.

“Hyung, you should sit down, if you’re dizzy. Just sit down on the floor, that’s okay,” Sungjae softly reminds him, keeping his voice down, and making sure Minhyuk doesn’t lose his balance as he slowly sinks to his knees and sits down.

“Calm down,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Sungjae. “You’re not dying. You’re not dying. You’re not dying.” Over and over like a mantra. “Get a grip. You're fine. You're not dying. You’ve been through this. This time will be okay, too. You know that.”

Time stands still in the small bathroom with just the two of them, and the world has come to a halt. Sungjae sits down next to Minhyuk, and he doesn’t dare to look away, to get his phone or call for help, just in case — all he can do is wish he could help, and hope his presence is enough.

“You’re okay, hyung,” he says, hesitant to do too much, or get too close. “You’re not dying. You’re safe.”

“I’m safe,” Minhyuk echoes, and he repeats it a few times, _I’m safe_ , giving himself time to take a deep breath, one long inhale and one long exhale in between. _I’m safe._

“You’re doing great,” Sungjae says, a little more confident this time. “You can get through this. You’re safe, and nothing can happen to you. I’m here.”

And Minhyuk looks up at him, his eyes boring into Sungjae’s, as if he’d only now realised, and Sungjae shoots him a small smile, reaching out and resting his hand on his shoulder. He’s shaking, maybe even more than Minhyuk is, his heart still beating in his throat and his blood rushing in his ears, but he tells himself to keep it together, to stay calm. For Minhyuk.

Running his hand over his back, Sungjae feels every breath he takes, every rise and fall of his chest, and how he tries his best to slow down. In through his nose, out through his mouth, Minhyuk seems to win over it after a few minutes, and little by little, he regains control over his breathing.

“Is it getting better?” Sungjae asks, masking the hopeful tone to his voice in case it isn’t, but Minhyuk nods, and a small weight is lifted off Sungjae’s shoulders.

“Good. You’re doing good, hyung.”

As Minhyuk slowly comes down, Sungjae regains some sense of consciousness, remembers where they are and wonders how much times has passed since he found Minhyuk here. He can’t tell if it’s been five minutes or an hour, everything inside his head having turned into mush, but he’s happy to return to the real world with one last sigh slipping past Minhyuk’s lips, as the tension leaves his muscles and his body goes slack.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk brings out, his voice faint. He rubs over his face, and rests his head against the stall door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he adds, quieter, directed at the ceiling. It makes Sungjae’s insides twist.

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologise for that,” he says, and he hopes Minhyuk knows he means it.

“Please don’t tell anyone. Eunkwang and Changsub know, anyway. I don’t want it to become an issue.”

“Okay.” Sungjae can’t help his mind from wandering, wondering if they’ve seen Minhyuk like that before, too, or if he decided to confide in them in case they’d have to at some point. Either way, he’s determined to do what he can, and keep Minhyuk’s secret to himself. He had no choice in sharing it with Sungjae, and the least he can do now is be respectful about it, no matter how heavy the experience might weigh on him. That’s not what’s important, and he’ll deal.

"Hyung, can I hug you?”

The question escapes his lips before he can really think about it, Minhyuk’s eyebrows flying up in surprise. His expression softens, and he lets out a huff.

"Of course,” he says, and Sungjae almost falls into Minhyuk’s arms, his body desperate for something to steady him, ground him like he grounded Minhyuk.

“Sorry if I scared you,” Minhyuk says, his face resting against Sungjae’s shoulder and his words muffled by his shirt. “And thank you for staying.”

“Anytime, hyung.”

It was scary, but the thought of Minhyuk going through those attacks all on his own is a lot more upsetting, hiding in bathroom stalls or simply heaving to bear it with all of them around. Sungjae’s heart _aches_ for him, and his already shaky façade crumbles, blinking back tears when Minhyuk slowly pulls back.

“Oh, Sungjae,” he coos, helplessly. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have kept you around—“

“No, that’s not it—,” Sungjae hiccups and draws in a sharp breath, “I just don’t want you to—to get like that, hyung. Especially when you’re alone, and none of us are there, and…—“

He breaks off into a sob, and Minhyuk takes one of his hands into his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“It’s okay, they’re not that frequent,” he assures him, but Sungjae isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth, or lying to make him feel better. “Really. Don’t lose any sleep over this, okay? It’s not that bad, and I know they pass. Every time.”

“Just, please, hyung— tell me next time, okay? W—when it gets bad,” Sungjae forces out, his voice just about stable enough. “You d—don’t have to be alone with this.”

“Okay. I will,” Minhyuk says, his face as hard to read as ever, “But for now, let’s get home, alright? I doubt we’ll get much done after this.”

Sungjae gives a quick nod, and they get up, Minhyuk’s soothing hand on his back all the way back to the practice room where they get their bags and pack up. They leave the building a minute later, and Sungjae drinks up the fresh air when they step outside for the first time in hours; it’s ice cold, and the wind merciless, but it reminds him that he’s alive, and he’s okay.

By the time they’re on the subway, Sungjae’s about to pass out, his body drained and his mind tirelessly working through everything that’s happened, but he can’t— won’t let himself doze off, their stop only a few minutes away, and Minhyuk fast asleep, head resting on Sungjae’s shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

Eunkwang refuses to let Sungjae skip breakfast, assuring him that no, he won’t throw up if he eats a bite even if he feels like he will. They’re all nervous for the shoot, but they’ve worked day and night to perfect their performance, and everything will be absolutely fine.

At least, that’s what he wants Sungjae to believe. And Sungjae gives in eventually, forcing down a few spoons of cereal, and the glass of orange juice Minhyuk hands him, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He doesn't have much time to protest, anyway; scheduled to leave in less than half an hour, Sungjae gets ready at the speed of light once the older hyungs are no longer occupying the bathroom, and gets ushered into their managers car thirty minutes later on the dot. It's still early in the morning, but the car is filled with lively conversations, most of them anxious to arrive and find out what the day is holding in store for them.

They arrive after a longer ride than usual, the studio being a lot further from their dorm than the company is. Stepping into the studio, a big hall with dozens of staff members already running around, busy going after whatever it is they have to do, Sungjae has to suppress the urge to stop in his tracks and take everything in at the entrance. Instead, he follows their manager and the other members across set, bowing approximately a hundred times at the director, his assistant, and other highly professional and serious looking people, until they arrive at a door towards the back of the wide space. They’re led inside what their manager calls _their room_ , and told to wait here unless instructed otherwise — by who, Sungjae wonders, but that’s one thing among a hundred, that they’re not told.

“Did you see that set out there? That’s amazing,” Eunkwang says, his eyes big and an even bigger smile adorning his face. “Everything’s so professional.”

He turns around to Sungjae, but Sungjae can’t bring himself to share the enthusiasm; everything about this — the set, the staff, the atmosphere — is daunting, intimidating even. The fact that everybody is counting on them to do a good job, and will be forced to stay longer if they mess up.

“Relax, Sungjae-yah,” Eunkwang shouts gleefully, shaking Sungjae’s shoulders in an attempt to get him to loosen up, or just to make the rest of them laugh, Sungjae isn’t quite sure, but he lets him, and hears the others chuckle in unison at the silly gesture.

“Ah, hyung,” Sungjae whines. “I can’t mess up now. I really can’t.”

“Why would you?” Eunkwang asks back, letting go off Sungjae. “You even got in some extra practice with Minhyuk last night.”

Last night. Sungjae turns to look at Minhyuk, and their eyes meet. It doesn’t feel like it was just last night. That’s way too close. If Sungjae didn’t know, he’d guess it was more like a hundred years ago, when he found Minhyuk hunched over the sink in the restrooms. Minhyuk gives an almost unnoticeable smile at Sungjae, and directs his attention back to his phone, and Sungjae wonders if he’s told Eunkwang about it, or if maybe Eunkwang has a feeling something happened. Sungjae wouldn’t put it past him to be able to sense things like that.

“You’ll do fine. Don’t worry about it,” Eunkwang says before Sungjae can come up with answer that doesn’t evolve accidentally spilling the one secret he’s supposed to keep, and he decides to just hold onto Eunkwang’s encouraging words, and accept his warm pat on the shoulder as enough for now.

“Hyunsik’s already back asleep,” Changsub chimes in, giving an amused snort and nodding over to where Hyunsik’s half-sitting, half-lying on the couch, sunken into the cushions, and unaware of everyone else looking at him.

“Can’t blame him,” Eunkwang mumbles, plumping down next to Minhyuk onto the other couch and stretching his arms. “I guess it’s okay if we sleep when we’re not needed?”

Without waiting for an answer, Eunkwang takes off his shoes and curls up into a more comfortable position, his eyes falling shut and his cheek squished against the backrest. Sungjae feels himself get sleepy at the mere sight of Eunkwang and Hyunsik fast asleep, but he isn’t sure he should let his guard down that easily. They might be needed in five minutes from now, and he can’t risk not making a good impression.

He sits down next to Donggeun on the baby blue picnic mat stretched out on the floor between the sofas, Changsub having settled in next to Hyunsik and Ilhoon’s stood leaned against a wall next to a rack of clothes in the corner of the room. For a brief moment, Sungjae considers calling him over, asking him if he wants to sit with them, but he decides against it to save himself from even more humiliation. Because Ilhoon would just say no like he always does, maybe even throw in a snarky, ungrateful remark, and Sungjae’s told himself that he wouldn’t run after him, anymore; he should focus the little energy that he has these days onto the others, who appreciate his empathy and return it without question.

Donggeun’s yawn pulls Sungjae out of his thoughts, and he leans over to read the webtoon Peniel’s been into along with him, inching a little closer towards him to get a better look at his slightly cracked phone screen. He watches him switch between apps whenever he has to look up a translation, and tries to memorise some of the English words being spat out by the dictionary. He’s probably remembering all of them wrong one way or another, but it gives him something to do, and makes him hopeful that, someday, he may able to rival Hyunsik’s skills, and be able to talk to Peniel in English.

At the end of chapter four, the door to their dressing room opens and two women appear in the door frame to cast a quick glance over the group. One of them looks down at a small piece of paper.

“Minhyuk-gun, Ilhoon-gun,” she reads out, and lifts her head again. “You’re getting your hair and make-up done first. Please come with me.”

Minhyuk and Ilhoon exchange a quick glance, and follow the women outside, the door falling shut behind them having Hyunsik stir in his sleep.

“Make-up and hair…,” Sungjae mumbles. “You won’t be able to see any of it, though. We’re wearing masks.”

Donggeun shrugs his shoulders — something he had to explain to Sungjae and the others after they’d asked him what it means and he’d got over the fact that people in Korea don’t do it — and goes back to reading his webtoon in silence. Sungjae still can’t help but find it a little funny, but now that he knows what it means, it’s nowhere near as bizarre as it seemed at first.

“Ilhoon and Minhyuk hyung…,” Hyunsik mumbles, his voice thick with sleep and even deeper than it normally is. “Did staff come to get them?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I thought they’d get you and Ilhoon first…”

It’s a harmless statement, and Hyunsik’s probably not even fully awake yet, but Sungjae can’t help the snort at the idea, all his frustration with Ilhoon bubbling up inside of him at the mention of his name.

“Thank God, no,” he mutters, directed at the hundreds of kittens printed all across the picnic mat.

A concerned expression flickering across Hyunsik’s face, he sits up straight and clears his throat.

“Did something happen?” he asks, still keeping his voice down so that he doesn’t wake up Changsub and Eunkwang, who must be in deep sleep by now, and didn’t seem to take any notice of the two staff coming in.

“We had a fight.”

“About what?”

Sungjae freezes, his face getting warm and Hyunsik’s eyes still fixed on him, patiently waiting for him to answer. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to talk about this, but it only hit him now that he shouldn’t tell Hyunsik about every little detail, unless he wants to get himself and Ilhoon into serious trouble.

“Uhm, just. I wanted to help him with something, and he wouldn’t let me,” Sungjae says, risking a glance up at Hyunsik, who silently nods along, as if what Sungjae said confirmed his suspicion, or as if he already knew, anyway. “I’m so nice to him, but he always pushes me away.”

Hyunsik lets out a long breath, shooting Sungjae an empathetic smile.

“I know, he’s hard to get to know. You just need to give him space, and he’ll come to you, eventually,” he says, somewhat deep in thought. “We’re not that close, and we don’t talk a lot, but sometimes I think that’s what he wants.”

“Well, I haven’t talked to him since our fight on Saturday. I’ve been ignoring him,” Sungjae says, and, on second thought, “Not that he’d talk to me, anyways.”

“It’s really weighing on you, isn’t it?” Hyunsik asks.

“Yeah. I don’t want enemies.”

A soft snort escapes Hyunsik’s lips, and Sungjae whips his head around in a mixture of surprise and irritation.

“Ilhoon doesn’t hate you. You’re not enemies,” Hyunsik reminds him, the amused look in his eyes making it clear that he finds Sungjae’s words _amusing_ , to say the least. “You’re both part of a team, and haven’t figured out how to work together yet.”

“But it’s been two months, and it’s only getting worse.”

“The past week has been stressful for all of us, and everybody’s a little on edge… give things some more time. Give Ilhoon more time to warm up to you, and let you in. I think you’re expecting too much from him.”

It almost feels like he’s lecturing Sungjae, and while it makes him feel small, and kind of silly, he knows that’s not Hyunsik’s intention. If Eunkwang was a wizard, Hyunsik would be the old wise man, the all-knowing teacher a student would come to to ask for advice. And Sungjae is happy to learn and take in what Hyunsik has to say, even if it means admitting his own faults in the process.

Next to Hyunsik, Changsub stirs in his sleep, and Sungjae decides to drop the conversation, too afraid of having Changsub giving his two cents and another fight breaking out.

“Thanks, hyung,” is all he says, and Hyunsik understands.

Their conversation continues to replay inside Sungjae’s head on endless loop when Changsub slowly but surely wakes up, and Minhyuk and Ilhoon come back with their hair straightened, their skin looking a little more even, and dressed in all black tracksuits. Not even an hour later, the seven of them are almost indistinguishable, hair covering their eyes and the lower half of their faces covered by masks. They look mysterious, like a gang out of a movie, and Sungjae can’t help but look into every mirror he sees — just to make sure it’s actually him. Being an idol has never felt this real, and yet surreal at the same time; it’s a lot to take in, that feeling of leaving behind his old, normal self and trading it in for this new version of himself.

His outfit gives him just enough confidence for the excitement to finally override his nerves, and the self-doubt nagging at his brain, and his fingertips are _tingling_ , ready to get on set and show everyone present what they’re made of, that they’re a team at the end of the day.

“Solo shoots,” the director announces. “We’ll be doing solo shoots and b-roll first, and then move on to the group performance.”

Sungjae has to suppress a disappointed sigh as everyone but Eunkwang is told to go back to the dressing room and wait for their turn, the anticipation gone like air streaming out of a pool floatie with a hole in it. He takes his mask off, and stuffs it into the pocket of his pants with spite, and lets himself plump down onto one of the couches to spend another hour or so waiting, and wasting away. With nothing to do except alternating between watching random videos and listening to music, time seems to move ever so slowly, and the only thing keeping his spirits up is seeing one hyung after the other be called outside for their shoot and come back fifteen or so minutes later.

It’s only when Donggeun leaves the dressing room that Sungjae realises someone’s missing.

That someone being Ilhoon.

He can’t remember the last time he saw him, but none of the others seem to notice that he’s gone, or care that he’s up next and should probably be ready to go for when Donggeun comes back.

“Where’s Ilhoon hyung?”

“Bathroom probably. He’s been gone for a while, though. Not sure what he’s doing.”

While Changsub doesn’t seem the least bit concerned, Sungjae is, and he hates himself for it. For still caring so much. Silently cursing at himself, he gets up and makes his way to the restrooms. He’ll just make sure he’s okay, and tell him he’s up next. There’s no reason for shit to get ugly again, Sungjae reminds himself, entering the restrooms.

All the stalls are vacant except for one, and as Sungjae takes a step closer, he can make out a shadow on the floor.

“Hyung?” he asks into the silence, and he notices with surprise that the lock is showing green.

He must’ve forgot to lock the door, Sungjae thinks. Or maybe he wanted to be found.

He hesitantly pushes the door open with the tips of his fingers, and finds Ilhoon sitting on the floor leaned against the clean white wall of the stall, knees neatly tucked under his chin.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

Ilhoon looks up at Sungjae for a split second and hastily wipes at his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Can’t think straight anymore,” he mutters, resting his forehead against his knees.

“Me neither,” Sungjae sighs. “Can I sit with you?”

Ilhoon gives a a small nod, and Sungjae steps inside the stall and sits down opposite of Ilhoon, pulling his knees towards his chest to keep himself warm just like Ilhoon. He stays quiet, unsure what to say, or if he should even say anything to begin with. He wants to apologise for the fight they had, but it seems so far away by now, Sungjae isn’t sure it’s worth the trouble of digging it all up again. So he doesn’t say anything, and just listens to the faint music blaring from the speakers on set, and the tens of staff moving around heavy lights, cameras, and other equipment he can’t even begin to imagine what it could be used for. There’s so much going on around them, and he finds some kind of peace in sitting on the restroom floor with Ilhoon, neither of them saying a word.

Tilting his head back, Ilhoon stares up at the ceiling, the reflection of the lights above them catching in the tears building up in his eyes. He takes a shaky breath, and it pulls at Sungjae’s heart.

“What’s wrong?”

“My mother…,” Ilhoon says, his words barely louder than a whisper, “texted me earlier.”

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Do you miss her?”

Ilhoon nods, his chin quivering as he bites back his tears with force. It’s like a kick to Sungjae’s stomach, seeing Ilhoon this vulnerable, this close to breaking down.

He reaches out, placing a hand on Ilhoon’s arm to try and comfort him, but Ilhoon pulls back, not as quickly, or forceful as he usually does, but he pulls back and tugs his arms in between his chest and legs.

“Don’t.” It sounds like a plea, like he’s begging Sungjae not to get too close, like he’s an animal being cornered by a wild predator about to eat him whole.

A small sigh slips past Sungjae’s lips. He’d give anything to make Ilhoon understand that all he wants to do is help, to be there for him when he feels down, but maybe Hyunsik was right, and Ilhoon can’t let in people as quickly as Sungjae can, and that’s not his fault.

“Hyung…,” Sungjae says, not sure where to go next, and what he really wants to say. He knows all too well that for every time he reaches out, Ilhoon will pull back further and further, and that nothing he could say will change Ilhoon’s mind, nothing will get through to him unless he lets it.

And he can’t _make_ him. Sungjae’s had to learn that the hard way, and he won’t make the same mistake twice. It won’t help either of them.

So, Sungjae gets up and dusts off his clothes, Ilhoon’s eyes following him from his spot on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Sungjae says. “I’ll leave you be, and give you your space. But you can talk to me, if you ever need to… work through things. Or if you need some distraction. Whatever it is, okay? I’m here.”

Ilhoon’s gaze lingers on Sungjae, and the expression on his face is still impossible to read, as if his features were cut out of stone. But there’s life to them, even if only beneath the surface, and hidden from anyone who doesn’t take the time to take a closer look.

“Thank you, Sungjae.”

The words are quiet, their edges blurry, but they make Sungjae’s heart skip a beat, and pull up the corners of his lips into the hint of a smile. It’s hard to leave the restrooms, to leave Ilhoon huddled up and sitting by himself so that no one can see him cry, but Sungjae knows now that it’s the least he can do for him, to give him time, and wait for Ilhoon to come to him.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time participating in a fic fest, and it is So Very Much up my alley i couldnt have asked for more. 
> 
> bingo squares filled with this fic: child labor, bedsharing as coping mechanism, refusing to drop the coworker persona, always out of the loop, and responsible persona martyr complex.
> 
> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are as always greatly appreciated.
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jungsilhoon)


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